


Hitting The Sweet Spot - See Nash Write: The Best of the Shorts

by SeeNashWrite



Series: SeeNashWrite: The Best of the Shorts [10]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-12
Updated: 2017-12-12
Packaged: 2019-02-13 19:57:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 585
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12991395
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SeeNashWrite/pseuds/SeeNashWrite
Summary: For my 300th follower celebration at Tumblr this summer, I asked the Nashooligans for three words upon which to build anything from a drabble to a dissertation. The catch? Those three words had to make me cringe. Some really nailed it, some were unsure, and some just flat-out used things that make me *personally* cringe, but regardless, well… as they might say in Sparta, this was madness.This bit's words? Dean. Saying. Sweetheart.





	Hitting The Sweet Spot - See Nash Write: The Best of the Shorts

**Author's Note:**

> Those words are cringeworthy for *me*, as I have chosen Dean saying "sweetheart" in anything but a snark fashion to a potential love interest in fanfic as my hill to die on. That is, if the fic is going for accurate character portrayal, Dean saying it sweetly to a girlfriend/wife rings untrue. The data bears it out - the only time he uses it in a way that doesn't serve to be patronizing, insulting, or manipulative, is to two objects: Baby and the Colt. Only times he says it with loving intent, cross my heart. Search ye olde blog with #sweetheart if you're so inclined. There's stupid pie charts and everything [wink].
> 
> Note the 2nd: When I say "Teen & Up" on this one, I'm not talking I-just-got-out-of-7th-grade. I'm talking you're a junior/senior in high school. It's not dirty enough to be "Mature", but it ain't without innuendo & talk that walks the line, okay? Okay.

Dean had gotten creative this time, they’d give him that much.

Pushing forty, one would think the backseat would be his locale of choice for banging the most recent waitress who appeared to be roughly ten-to-twelve years his junior, but boy-howdy, was she flexible. So, straddled in front it was, and to say his  _other_  companions were irked would be an understatement. Dean didn’t know it, but he had never gotten away with all he’d thought - there was always at least one witness.

Baby and the Colt - or simply Colt, which Baby preferred, as  _she_ preferred the car’s nickname versus ‘The Impala’ - bonded over this, amongst other things. And on this particular occasion, Baby was  _done_ with having her seats be damp, and Colt was  _done_  with the view she had from her tucked-away position just under the driver’s seat. Baby, of course, had experienced much more of such than Colt throughout the years, but Colt had that hair trigger and all.

One of those other things they’d bonded over was Dean. They genuinely loved him. They loved his quirks, his bravery, his loyalty, and they loved him for how much  _he_ loved  _them_. Meticulous care for both, a countless amount of time spent keeping them shiny and functional, never a disrespectful touch, always pure sweetness.  

And he thought  _them_ full of sweetness, despite their often utilitarian functions, the death that surrounded them, [otherwise why would he call  _them_ and them  _alone_ “sweetheart” with all the sincerity his voice could muster?](http://seenashwrite.tumblr.com/post/159358473320/sweetheart-dean-said-looking-right-into-her)

So it was that when Dean’s lower back was starting to ache, he wheedled his way into convincing the giggly, spry young thing to move their boning into the motel. As always, Baby and Colt were comforted by the fact that he’d settled them a mere handful of feet away from the room’s door. They rested, content.

That is, til the next morning, when Dean emerged, pulling on his jacket, and through the door, his conquest could be observed groggily sitting on the end of the bed, hair mussed, clothes slowly being donned.

“Yeah, I don’t think so - gotta meet up with my brother, no time for a shower. You need to head on out, sweetheart.”

Looking back, Baby and Colt weren’t sure if it was simply the use of their nickname lobbed about in such an off-hand, patronizing way, or if it was because it was directed at a woman, random as she may be, but Baby gunned her engine before the “t” had hardly hit the air, hopping the concrete stop of the parking space and taking out Dean’s left knee.

He howled, as to be expected, but managed to haul himself into an upright position, which is when Colt fired.

Given Colt’s caliber, the round shouldn’t have cut through all that metal and nearly dropped Baby’s engine, sailing on to - with impressive accuracy - hit Dean’s  _right_ knee, but it did because…  _hello_. Colt.

“Aw, fuck me! I wasn’t thinking!” 

“Urrrmph. ’S okay. Been through worse.”

“Worth it?”

And in reply to Colt, Baby flipped the radio on - an oldies station had just put on  _[“Goodnight, Sweetheart”](http://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Fwww.youtube.com%2Fwatch%3Fv%3DegX9N8yOgaU&t=MjQ5MWJlNmE1OWJlM2FlYjNlNzczZDMyMDBmMzZlYjkwMTY2ZjY5NSxUOXRuMTE5cA%3D%3D&b=t%3AfeYqJE9V7Id9KtXy3YxHUA&p=http%3A%2F%2Fseenashwrite.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F162385651915%2Fdean-saying-sweetheart&m=1)_.

She cranked up the volume so it drowned out Dean’s moaning and the waitress’ screaming - a  _different_ kind of moaning and screaming. The kind Baby and Colt were more comfortable with, though what that said about them was hard to pin down. What they  _could_ say was that they didn’t regret their actions one bit, because they were badasses.

Plus - it was pretty sweet.       

* * *

BONUS!

**Author's Note:**

> Feedback is fuel! Let me know if you enjoyed. -Nash


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